I love everyone and I love no one. I can do everything and I can do nothing. I live everywhere and I live nowhere.
Call me a drifter.
My granddad left me a plot of land, and I’ve got 300 Simoleans to my name. I’ve got my guitar, my fiddle, a tablet, the clothes on my back, and the bandana on my head. That’s about all I’ve got.
Oh, yeah. If you treat me right, I’ve got a smile on my face, and, if I’m lucky, I could charm you into buying me a drink or a meal and sharing your bed with me for a night or two before my feet start itching and I’m ready to head on my way again.
No moss. That’s my motto. This rolling stone just rolled into town. I hit up the library as soon as I checked out my land.
Got a feeling me and the library will become good friends. They’ve got a john there, computers I can use for my writing, and plenty of marks–err, neighbors–to meet. Met these two roomies there, Liberty Lee and Tristan something. I think that’s his name. Can’t really recall. Anyway, they seem cool. Invited me to stop by later.
I wrote a book that morning–little treatise for the kiddies on how to live. Open road, free range. All that stuff.
The park behind the library has a grill. I grilled up some veggie burgers. Pretty sweet life when I can call the public library my office and the park my cafeteria.
My eyes felt a little heavy after supper, so I thought I’d take Liberty and Tristan what’s-his-name up on their offer to drop by sometime.
They’ve got a sweet little place.
Liberty was feeling frisky. I kept the talk on the friendly side, not wanting to stir up trouble of the heart just yet.
Shared a few words with Tristan, too. Guy’s got a serious interest in computer games.
They had a nice empty bed in one of the rooms. Felt good to crawl between clean sheets.
I met their other roommate early the next morning. Summer. She’s cheerful, like her name.
I told her about life on the open road, and we became friends. My first friend in Willow Creek.
I scrambled up some eggs to thank them for letting me stay the night. Summer was kinda put out. Guess she doesn’t like the guests to make themselves at home in the kitchen.
But she ate my eggs anyway.
I had something to do after breakfast.
I headed back to my lot, where my mailbox is, and I sent off my manuscript to be self-published. Feels pretty good.
You know, some day, I just might build a mansion on Granddad’s lot.